


a metamorphosis.

by turnaboutcafe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boyfriends, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Character Study, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Haikyuu Nationals + Final Arc Spoilers, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Karasuno Week 2020, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: because baby, we can be lovers.hinata grows on the court. kageyama grows off the court.and their relationship grows in both.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97
Collections: Karasuno Week '20





	a metamorphosis.

**Author's Note:**

> AA HERE'S A QUICK FIC FOR KARASUNO WEEK I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

**i. rivals.**

“Who are we playing, Kageyama?” Kindaichi asked, wiping sweat off of his brow as they stepped out of their bus. Kageyama was leading the front of the team alongside their coach, who was already beginning to scout out the court they were meant to play in for the match.

“Some school called Yukigaoka,” Kageyama replied, brandishing the paper of matchups that the coach had given to him the previous day. “I don’t think I’ve heard of them before, it should be an easy for us.”

“Of course,” Kindaichi nodded.

“As long as you can hit my spikes, everything will be fine.”

The words left Kageyama’s mouth before he could stop them. Before he could open his mouth again to correct himself, Kindaichi was already faced the other way, glancing at him every so often as he whispered to Kunimi in a low voice, the occasional look thrown at Kageyama. Paying no mind, Kageyama focused on the building they had finally arrived in, taking in the sight.

His last match of junior high, and then he would graduate.

The inter-middles, a match that Kitagawa Daiichi never failed to win. Even as they walked into the building, whispers were beginning to form around them, everyone pointing at him as he hauled his gym bag higher up his shoulders, the whispered words of his scary accomplishments sounding loudly in the air. Despite his teammates stopping to take in the sights of the gym they had been assigned to and the people that were whispering about them, Kageyama paid no mind, opting to drop his gym bag on the floor and begin his stretches ahead of time.

“He’s so tall,” a voice whispered from some way. As he looked towards the source of the sound, he met eyes with a student in a green colored uniform, who was clearly indicating him with an outstretched finger. As they did, the student yelped, scampering away before he could get in a single word. 

“Kageyama, we have about half an hour before the match starts,” his coach informed him as he was pulled off to the side. “Official warmups for our team start in ten minutes; make sure that everyone has taken care of their own matters before then.”

“I understand, coach,” Kageyama nodded. As he turned around to exit the gym, his coach made a small sound, a half phrase before he closed his mouth. As he did, Kageyama turned around, looking at his coach in curiosity.

“Did you say anything, coach?” Kageyama asked, looking at him. At his question, the coach shook his head, despite the fact that the words were still very clearly on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s nothing, Kageyama,” he said, nodding towards him. “Just go take care of your own matters and be back on time.”

“Alright.”

Kageyama stalked off towards the main hall, sighing as the eyes staring at him continued to compound. No matter how quickly he walked past the people in the hallway, or how intimidating he tried to present himself as, they kept looking, unwilling to let their gazes go as they looked at him. It was less of a moment to boast and feel prideful than it was a nuisance; the pressure of eyes on him before the first match of the competition never failed to frazzle him, despite his outward appearance in said matches.

Looking up, the sign Kageyama looked for caught his eyes. In bright bold letters, the word ‘TOILET’ was written on a sign, pointing towards the left of the forked hallway.

“Better now than later,” he murmured to himself, taking long strides towards the path of the toilet.

As he stepped into the hallway, he could already begin to hear the loud bustles of other players waiting around in the hallway, an evident line to use the toilet forming. They all wore different uniforms, a plethora of colors meeting his eyes as he found his way to the back of the toilet line.

Suddenly, his eyes caught two familiar figures in the Kitagawa Daiichi uniform.

They were pointing and sniggering at a boy in front of the toilet, who clearly had a typical case of the pre-match nerves. He was staring indignantly at the two taller Kitagawa Daiichi students, eyes sharp as he tried to argue back at them with a poorly placed comment. It barely fazed them, only serving to make them laugh even louder. At the sight, Kageyama grimaced, leaving his place in the lengthening line to approach the two students from his school.

“Look at him,” one of the students laughed. “He said he’s going to win the match against our school? That’s ridiculous, we’ve won the inter-middles every year since last decade!”

“What are you two doing in the toilet?” Kageyama asked, glowering at the two. “The warm-ups for our school start in ten minutes; you shouldn’t be here!”

At the sight of him, the two’s eyes widened, nervousness filling them as they gawked at him. “Kageyama-san, I—”

“If you two aren’t even going to be on time for the official warm-ups, you’ll never graduate from being benchwarmers,” Kageyama growled. “So instead of trash talking a primary kid, you should practice your serves. If you did, maybe you would be able to win against a no name school!”

“I—”

Kageyama’s glare intensified. “Go.”

At his order, the two began to scamper away. As they did, he could hear the boy beside him sigh in relief, relaxation filling his eyes. Kageyama took another glance at the boy. He was wearing a bright green shirt, a large number one printed on the front in large white text. His hair was almost as gaudy as the brightness of his shirt, clearly standing out amongst everyone else around them, who were cursed with the ever common blackness similar to his own hair color.

“And don’t think we’re going to lose to a no name school,” Kageyama growled, staring at him.

The boy looked up at him, eyes sharp, burning with passion. “We won’t lose.”

“There’s a difference,” Kageyama growled, “in the reasons why we’re here. You’re here to make memories? We’re here to win, and we won’t lose to you. If you won’t take it seriously, joining a competition will simply embarrass you.”

“As I’ve said,” he spoke, louder this time as he sized up Kageyama with his own tiny frame, “we’re here to win, and we will.”

“Don’t talk big when all you can do is lose.”

Kageyama stalked off, the feeling of needing the bathroom quickly dissipating from him. As he did, the boy simply stood there, staring at him, as if trying to solve an incomprehensible puzzle. Ignoring the burning of the stare at the back of his head, Kageyama continued his brisk walk, slamming open the doors to the gym. At his entrance, his teammates’ eyes immediately averted to him, frowning slightly as they saw him.

As he neared, a very distinct murmur rose in the air.

_”The great king.”_

At the words, he tensed.

“Kageyama, you’re just on time for official warm-ups.”

The warm-ups moved as per normal. Nothing was new as he leaped to practice several spikes, fingers flexing as he set the ball into the air, the familiar feeling of the soft volleyball material leaving his fingers, launching into the air, pummeling right towards the spiker…

“Hey!”

A strangled cry rose in the air mere split seconds after the ball left his fingers, a barrage of furious noises coming from beside him. Kageyama looked up at the source of the noise, frowning as he did so. Kindaichi, next to him, was glaring at him intensely.

“The serve was too quick,” he spoke. His words were punctuated by the resounding thud of the volleyball against the gym floor. “You have to go slower; no one can match your speed, Kageyama.”

“You just have to move faster!” Kageyama growled, looking at Kindaichi. “There’s nothing wrong with my serves, you just have to—”

Before Kageyama could finish his sentence, a whistle cut his insults short.

“The match is beginning,” his coach called out. “Let’s line up!”

As the formalities passed, Kageyama found himself at the starting line, volleyball in hand as he looked towards the opposite side of the court. His gaze raked across the other team, much shorter in comparison, stances weak, inexperienced grips evident. As his gaze dragged through the crowd, he saw something familiar, standing in the front line, eyes blazing with determination.

The bright haired boy.

Before he could collect his thoughts, the whistle sounded. Bracing himself, he lifted the ball into the air, slamming the serve with a resounding thud.

At his first serve, the game immediately fell into a flurry of chaos. Between sloppy passes and receives, nothing fazed Kageyama as he made serve after serve, set after set, ignoring the strained complaints of his spikers, moving faster and faster as he ran through the court, setting himself up for the toss, perfectly aligned as he shot the ball, whirring towards the spiker.

“I can’t—” Kindaichi strained, barely pushing the ball over the net. At the gentle hit, the opposition quickly received the ball, albeit its sloppiness. In an instant, it was back up in the air, perfectly aimed towards the outstretched hands of the opposite team’s setters.

“Left!” a voice yelled.

Kageyama turned, watching as the bright haired boy he had met in front of the toilet raced towards the left. Planting his feet on the ground with firmness Kageyama had never seen before, he launched himself up.

As he did, the stadium seemed to hold their breath. He continued to climb higher and higher, as if he would never reach his peak. The ball slipped from his teammate’s hands, moving closer and closer towards him, eyes shut tight as he brought his hand against the ball, power unmatched as he struck it hard…

Only to be met by a resounding thud as the ball hit a mess of hands.

“Nice block!” the Kitagawa Daiichi crowd cheered, waving their banners.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind it!” the opposite side cajoled, patting the boy on his back. “You can do it again!”

And he did. 

He continued, jumping higher and higher, jumping higher than he ever did before. Amidst sloppy tosses and receives, failed digs and Kageyama’s own service aces, he continued to fly, reaching the top, spiking down almost perfectly.

It was as if he had wings.

Unconcentrated, Kageyama tossed. As he did, the ball flew too fast. It left his fingers more quickly than he anticipated it to, a strangled cry from his teammate as the ball soared past them. With another feeble pass of the ball towards the other side of the court, the boy on the opposition jumped again, perfectly meeting the set in the air, and spiking it perfectly down.

And as it did, Kageyama’s blood boiled.

“They stole a point from us!” Kageyama screamed, staring his teammates down, red clouding his vision. “You have to jump higher, faster, quicker! They’re going to keep stealing points from us if you don’t stop being so—”

Before the words left his lips, he stopped. He stopped, and stared. 

His teammates stared back at him, eyes in disbelief as they looked at him. Their eyes slowly filled with disgust as they met his own rage-filled eyes, betrayal ripped across the lifelessness of their faces.

_”The great king.”_

Kitagawa Daiichi won two straight sets that day, but Kageyama felt nothing. He only stared as the bright haired boy shook his hand from the opposite side of the net, eyes blazing.

“What have you been doing these past three years?”  
  


* * *

  
  


_“As long… as long as I’m here, you’re invincible!”_

_“I’m… invincible?”_

* * *

  
  
**ii. partners**

Kageyama gripped his plate tightly, the rice on it cold, sauce poured on it stale. The sounds of shuffling from the dining room had already begun to wane, the silent whooshes of water from the bathroom beginning to rise. Slowly, he stepped towards the only occupied bedroom in their rental, anxiety prickling him as he stood there for several moments, burning him. His fingers gripped the porcelain plate more tightly, teeth grinding against each other.

_You have to. You have to. You have to youhavetoyouhavetoyouhave—_

“Kageyama?” a gentle voice sounded, jerking his attention towards it.

Coach Ukai stood in front of him, a cold compress and tray of empty food in hand. His eyes were apologetic as he looked at Kageyama, soft eyes understanding, as if he could see right through him.

“You’re here for Hinata, right?” he asked, voice gentle, as if the slightest misstep could break the setter. “I’m glad.”

Kageyama stared at his coach for several long moments, not a word passing his lips. “You’re… glad?”

“I may not be as talented as Takeda-san,” he began, “but I can tell that he… he needs someone.”

Several moments of awkward tension passed, silence filling the air. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, the coach began to open his mouth to say something, until Kageyama’s slight nod stopped him.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Leaving his coach with a slight bow, Kageyama gripped the edge of the doorknob to the occupied room, silently clicking it open.

The room was dark, ground cold against his feet despite the bamboo flooring of the hostel. At first, he could see nothing, eyes screwing up against the darkness as he strained to see, barely able to register anything in the shadowy depths of the room. But when his eyes began to focus, he could see a shape in the room, familiar, clad in the black jacket Kageyama knew all too well. In the center of the room, Hinata was sitting up, staring aimlessly at the wall, barely moving to even look at Kageyama. He simply sat, flush faced from his fever, staring.

Kageyama gently sat beside him, settling his tray of food on the floor next to Hinata. For long moments, nothing was shared between them. It was a comfortable silence as Hinata shifted to look at Kageyama, an unspoken agreement of silence as they let the quietness of the moment sink in. Gently chewing on his unfinished food, Kageyama swallowed, shutting his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. His skin prickled.

The feeling was back.

He desperately pushed it away, the feeling of needles against his skin as guilt wormed at him. For a moment, he glanced at Hinata. He had turned back to the wall, silent breaths the only indication of his consciousness. As he looked, the needles turned into stabs, weight on his chest crushing as he desperately tried to push away the prickling sensation of guilt.

_I… I should have known, shouldn’t I?_

He stared at Hinata, weak from his fever.

_He was… weird on the day,_ he whispered, the only witness to his thoughts his mind. _He… was more jumpy than usual. He wasn’t okay. I should’ve noticed, I should’ve—_

“Yamayama-kun,” Hinata spoke. Kageyama looked up. As he did, Hinata’s eyes met his, a broken smile on his face.

“Hey,” Kageyama managed, cracking a smile.

“Hey,” he smiled back, eyes glistening. They shimmered with tears. 

“Did you cry, Kageyama?” Hinata asked. 

Kageyama stared at him, no words leaving him. Silently, without prerequisite, Hinata reached up his hand, gently tracing a thumb across his cheek. Despite the callouses, his hands were soft, gentle as they traced the lines of imaginary tears on his face, as if wiping them away. Kageyama leaned into the touch, leaning into the warmth of Hinata’s caress, drinking it in. 

“I didn’t cry, you idiot,” Kageyama mumbled.

_Liar._

“Liar,” Hinata smiled. “Big fat liar.”

Hinata’s hand retreated, warmth leaving him. Kageyama tensed as it did, before relaxing.

“You have no proof that I lied,” Kageyama mumbled.

“You know, Kageyama,” he began, “you’re very easy to read. Did you know that?”

“Easy…” Kageyama echoed, “to read?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Before the Seijoh match, I realized it. You stayed back after practice, even after we spiked all the volleyballs. I was in the changing room when I saw you.”

“Saw me—”

“You were crying.”

At those words, Kageyama tensed. 

“You’re almost like a book, Yamayama-kun.”

Silence overwhelmed them again, plunging Kageyama into darkness as it did. Hinata said nothing more, only staring at the wall once more, not a word shared between them. Again, his skin prickled, muscles tensed as he tried desperately to push the feeling away. Still, it persisted, eating him, engulfing him.

_You should have noticed._

“Do you regret it?”

Kageyama looked up at him, eyes questioning as he stared.

“Regret what?” he echoed. Despite his questioning tone, the words stabbed him.

Stabbed him deep.

“Everything,” Hinata mumbled, as if it answered the question.

_Everything._

And before he could stop, he found himself on the court again, watching as Hinata fell to the floor, knees to the ground as he stumbled forward, crashing. He saw himself again, rushing as he held Hinata, desperately trying to keep him up, panic gripping him as Shimizu took his temperature, her face pale as she saw the number.

He saw himself again, on the court as he desperately tried to push the thought of Hinata from his mind. He tensed as the ball came to him, jumping up to toss. But it didn’t feel the same as it left him, the pressure wrong, the feeling of his fingertips off.

And then he saw Hinata, sitting on the bench as Takeda sat in front of him, desperately holding him by the hand. He saw Hinata cry, wet tears running down his cheeks, eyes reddened as he stared at the court, face in his hands, clawing at the skin. He felt his heart begin to grip again, clutches tight as he desperately tried to shake the memory away. Yet, all he could see was Hinata. All he could see was Hinata on the bench, watching desperately as they fought without him.

All he could see was Hinata on the bench, bloodshot eyes lost as the final ball dropped on their side of the court.

“Do you, Kageyama?” Hinata asked, words stronger.

Kageyama heaved a breath, lips poised to speak his denial. But when he tried, all that came as the crushing tightening of his throat.

And next, the tears.

Salty, warm tears running down his cheeks, wetting them as Hinata stared. Kageyama buried his face in his hands, hastily wiping the tears as they came, eyes sensitive as the rough material of his jacket tore at the delicate skin, rubbed raw from the friction. 

“Why…” Hinata whispered. “Why are you crying?”

Kageyama’s lips quivered. “I regret… everything.”

_I regret letting you fall._

“Everything?” Hinata echoed.

He smiled bitterly. “Yeah. I regret—”

_Letting you down._

Hinata held him. “Don’t regret.”

_I regret letting you cry._

Hinata smiled. “Don’t, Kageyama.”

**”Don’t… cry.”**   
  


* * *

  
  


_“Brazil, Hinata?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Just don’t…”_

_“What?”_

_He cracked a smile. “Please don’t forget me.”_

* * *

  
  
**iii. lovers**

Hinata sighed, towelling off his hair, sweat still sticking to his skin despite the towel having already been soaked. The rest of the Black Jackals had left a long time ago, leaving only him in their changing room. He wondered why he ever let them go ahead without him, but without rhyme or reason, something compelled him to stay. It was as if the universe was attempting to give him a sign, a sign that something good would come from staying.

Gingerly, he moved his arm, wincing slightly. Maybe he had spiked that last ball entirely too hard; it would hurt for days.

Silently, he sat on the bench, contemplating the match he had just played. He thought of the spectators, the familiar faces he saw amongst them, the first years who had come to watch burning the most brightly in his mind. It was almost as if the universe had aligned perfectly for him, the day made entirely perfect for him.

Tossing his towel into the large duffel bag he always carried to tournaments, he sighed, pulling himself up from the bench. As he did, his legs screamed in protest, but he didn’t care, moving to stretch them out slightly before he made his way slowly to the door. Trudging, he sighed, steps painfully slow as he tried to minimize movement in his sore muscles as much as he possibly could. 

Slowly, he opened the door to the Black Jackals’ dressing room, eyes on the ground as he desperately tried not to fall asleep.

Only to bump into someone.

“Learn to watch where you’re walking, idiot.”

_That… voice!_

In front of him, in his familiar white and pink gradient jersey, Kageyama stood. He had a familiar, yet foreign smile on his face as he stared at Hinata. Despite the years that they had spent apart, Kageyama opting to stay in Japan to play with the Adlers while Hinata moved all the way to Brazil, Kageyama remained taller than Hinata, their height difference practically unchanged despite Hinata’s pride at his exceedment of 170 centimeters. 

Clearly, not much had changed.

“I won this time.”

The words seemed to hold meaning as Hinata looked up at Kageyama, who still wore his trademark expression when he was especially annoyed. But, within moments, the look dissipated, replaced by something much softer.

“You’re leaving already?” Kageyama asked, heaving his bag higher onto his shoulders. “I thought you guys would be partying to respond to reporters after winning such an anticipated match. I heard they sold out the entire stadium.”

“The Black Jackals avoid reporters as easily as a cat jumps down from a wall and lands on its feet,” Hinata laughed, looking at Kageyama. “When you’re in a team with Sakusa-san and Hoshiumi-san, you’d definitely have to learn all the ins and outs of avoiding reporters. It’s amazing that they managed to even get one interview with Sakusa-san.”

“What’s the Black Jackals’ changing room like?” Kageyama asked, opening a random paper bag he had clinging on his wrist by the handles. “The one they gave us sucked; if they gave you a better one I’m filing a complaint.”

“You’re going so far just to file a complaint for a better room?” Hinata asked, miffed. “Don’t take away our nice changing room from us, Yamayama-kun!”

Kageyama moved past Hinata, entering the room. He took the room in, observing every nook and cranny of it. As he did, Hinata couldn’t help but drag his eyes across the grand changing room as well.

It was unlike the changing rooms he was so used to using in highschool. The changing rooms they gave were definitely of a different level, the benches much more sturdy and clean in contrast to the slightly moldy wooden ones they were often subjected to in their highschool years. Rather than rusty metal lockers, the lockers in the MSBY changing room were completely clean, stainless steel making up the majority of the locker. The walls and floors gleamed, as if it was being cleaned every single second of the day; it was an envy of every mother who mopped the floors of their house daily.

“Not fair,” Kageyama grumbled, looking at the bottles of Pocari Sweat their sponsors had left for them in the changing room. “How come we don’t get drinks? I should talk to my manager…”

“Win some games and maybe you’ll get sponsored by them too!” Hinata laughed, poking at Kageyama. Immediately, he retreated, already poised to avoid a kick from Kageyama. But, to his surprise, the kick never came.

“Of course,” Kageyama said, closing his eyes. A small smile was forming on his lips.

Immediately, Hinata tensed. “Who are you and what have you done with Kageyama?”

“I am Kageyama, you idiot!”

“No you’re not!” Hinata argued, moving to leap onto one of the benches, brandishing his sports bag as if it was a shield. “You’re smiling! Kageyama never smiles!”

“Who says I never smile?”

“I saw you every single day for three years; you never smiled!”

“I did, you idiot!”

As Hinata had expected, Kageyama lunged at him, as if he was about to attack him. Instantaneously, Hinata jumped off the bench, landing squarely on the feet as he dashed to the opposite side of the large locker room. Kageyama ran after him, longer legs blessing him as Hinata struggled to keep out of the setter’s grasp, moving nimbly between the benches of the familiar locker room.

_He’s fast,_ Hinata grunted to himself, jumping out of reach from Kageyama again. _Why didn’t Brazil train me for this? It’s unfair!”_

“Got you—” Kageyama grunted, lunging forwards. As he did, he launched at Hinata, clearly putting too much power in the jump he did. As if in slow motion, they began falling backwards towards the hard concrete floor. As they did, Hinata could feel a hand gently coming towards the back of his head, gently holding it. Closing his eyes, Hinata braced for impact, muscles tensed.

But as they slammed against the ground, the only thing Hinata’s head felt was the warm, gentle feeling of Kageyama’s cradled hand.

“Ow,” Hinata mumbled. He reached up to rub his shoulders, jarred from the impact.

And he quickly found he couldn’t.

Kageyama’s arms, save for the hand that had been bracing the impact on his head, was wrapped around him, gently holding him. Now, they tightened their grip, holding him almost in a lock, as if he was chained by his arms.

For long moments, Hinata said nothing, barely breathing as Kageyama rested his head on the crook of his shoulders, unmoving since their fall. Bated breaths accompanied his rapidly beating heart, slowly pulsing faster and faster as they fought to escape Hinata’s chest, uncontrollable. Silently, Hinata prayed Kageyama couldn’t feel it.

“You’re home,” Kageyama murmured, muffled.

Hinata tensed, and then relaxed. “I’m home. I’m home, Kageyama.”

“You’re home,” he murmured again, voice strained. “You’re home. You’re home. You’re home!”

His head moved from the crook of Hinata’s shoulder, turning to look at him. His dark blue eyes were soft, unlike anything that Hinata had ever seen on him before. His eyes were calm, fond, gentle as they stared at Hinata, slowly observing his face, tracing every part of it. They were committing him to memory, keeping him safe.

“It’s been long, Yamayama-kun,” Hinata smiled.

“I’ve…” Kageyama murmured, “missed you.”

Gently, Kageyama pressed himself down onto Hinata, lips brushing him in the slightest, before he finally pressed them together. For several moments, Hinata’s mind blanked, eyes wide open as he watched Kageyama. His face, all sharp lines and angles, met his gaze, intoxicating him, slipping the lids of his eyes shut as he kissed back. Despite the sweat clinging to his skin, Hinata pressed closer to Kageyama, unrelenting, unwilling to let go of any part of the warmth.

It wasn’t quick, rushed or a race. It was a gentle brush of lips, the tentative touches of skin, the slow, gentle movements of love. It was calm, passionate, love filled as they clung onto each other, uncaring of the hard concrete floor underneath them, solely pushed forward by the burning feelings in their hearts.

It didn’t progress, it didn’t become a desperate clash of tongues. They simply stayed, lips pressing as they relished the moments they had together, the moments that had been stolen away in the two years they had spent apart. 

The moments they had to make up for.

After long moments, Kageyama finally pulled away, gently pressing his forehead against Hinata’s. His breath, gentle as they ghosted Hinata’s face, were warm, calming as Kageyama held him, thumbs brushing the small sliver of exposed skin at his waist, gentle.

“You’re home, Shouyou.

You’re finally home.”  
  


* * *

  
  


_Welcome home, Hinata Shouyou._

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it, please do consider giving a kudos and comment; it would really make my day!! <3


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